


Reinvent Love

by aroceu



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/aroceu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, caring has its limits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reinvent Love

Ryeowook smiles. His head is hurting, and he smiles.

It is very ironic, what a smile can mask.

“And… good!” shouts the photographer, clicking the camera one last time. He claps his hands, and the people holding up the lights step away immediately. “That’s all for today! You all did excellently!”

He’s beaming at Siwon, Ryeowook knows it, even though Siwon’s modest head is bowed down. Hyukjae looks weary but relieved as he walks over to them, and even Zhou Mi looks mildly out of breath. He’s been straining himself too much, probably.

“We were all pretty awesome, weren’t we?” says a happy Donghae, leaning his head against Kyuhyun’s shoulder as Sungmin and Henry make their way over.

“Good enough,” agrees Henry, though his beaming gives him away. He and Sungmin share a look, like they know a secret that’s been long forgotten.

Ryeowook nods, but says nothing. He’s still wearing his smile.

**

China has always worn out Ryeowook; there’s too much talking and too much noise and so much attention and commotion. Ryeowook has never been one to need attention, but to crave it—and clearly he has not known how wrong he is to crave it so badly.

He turns over in his bed, and closes his eyes.

He gets two hours of sleep. Two more than he usually does, three times less than how much Kyuhyun gets (because nowadays, Kyuhyun is the last one awake.) Two times less than how much he gets when they’re back in Korea, and a half more than how much he really needs.

Then, his schedule; even though no day is like the next, Ryeowook remains to be a creature of habit. He knows all Siwon’s quirks, all of Donghae’s laughs. All of Henry’s funny little phrases, and Zhou Mi’s reminiscent mentions of Chinese pop culture (which only Kyuhyun can keep up with.) All of Sungmin’s teases and taunts to each member.

It’s rather tiring, when he thinks about it.

Ryeowook hadn’t had the time to learn much about Chinese cooking when Hankyung had been around—still, he does his best with his pork fried rice and fresh soy beans. Zhou Mi digs in appreciatively and Donghae feeds a soy bean to Henry. Sungmin nods in thanks, and Kyuhyun and Siwon start discussing their favorite Chinese foods.

Ryeowook smiles at them all and hopes he’s done well. Here, he’s known as _Li Xu_ , not Ryeowook.

But it still doesn’t keep him from who he is.

**

“Hey, hyung,” says Henry, running to catch up with him. “When did you say the flight leaves for Seoul?”

“Next Thursday,” Ryeowook replies. His fingers fumble with his coat pocket. He imagines his ticket being in there, a small slip of paper with too much information to carry. It’s not, though. “Why do you ask?”

“Why do you think? I want to come back with you guys, of course.” Henry tosses him one of his casual half-smiles—the ones that are hidden behind the cameras, only shown to those Henry really cares about. Ryeowook has figured enough out about Henry to realize this. “See you in your natural habitat.”

“As if you haven’t already,” scoffs Ryeowook, playing along.

Henry smirks. “China’s hardly your natural habitat, hyung. Neither is it mine.” He casts an off-glance in the opposite direction. “It’s obviously Zhou Mi hyung’s, though; have you heard the way he talks about Jay Chou?”

Yes, Ryeowook has (though Zhou Mi had only been reduced to impressive silence when Jay Chou had worked with them.) He looks curiously at Zhou Mi. “Is he coming, too?”

“Maybe.” Henry quirks his lips. “You know how he gets about those plane rides.”

Ryeowook sighs and stuffs his hands into his pockets more. “Yes, I do.” He wishes he could do something to help.

He looks to Henry again, who has fallen into contemplative silence. “Is Korea your home, then?” he queries.

Henry laughs. “Hardly. You know my home is out West.” He jerks a thumb to the left. “But I’ve been here long enough to call Korea my second home.”

“You should go back to your first home, though. It’s the place you’re most comfortable.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me, hyung,” teases Henry.

Of course, Ryeowook is not trying to get rid of Henry. But he knows that no matter the amount of half-smiles Henry gives at all the Super Junior members, it is nothing compared to the way he talks about Canada.

**

They arrive at Seoul within hours on Thursday. It feels like mere minutes, to Ryeowook.

Their manager greets them at the airport, and it’s soon enough when they’re reunited with the rest of the Super Junior members at the dorms. Heechul is still out on a schedule, but Shindong and Jongwoon hyung are home. Everyone takes turns hugging each other, and Shindong seems surprised to see Zhou Mi here. Ryeowook had been, too. He had been sure that Zhou Mi would want to stay in China to try for some solo activities.

Their nannies help them get their stuff out of the car and into their respective dorms, and it isn’t long when Ryeowook finds him eagle-spread on his own bed, relishing in the comfort of his mattress. This is home, to him. It truly is home.

“Can I come in?” asks a voice at the door. Ryeowook perks his head up to see Hyukjae standing there.

“Sure, hyung,” he says, and moves over. Hyukjae sits himself on his bed and gazes at Ryeowook’s wastebasket, even though Ryeowook is sure trash is the last thing on Hyukjae’s mind.

“I miss China,” is the first thing Hyukjae says.

Ryeowook smiles, a little; he remembers the feeling. “I understand,” he says. “I felt the same way after I came back from my first visit over with Super Junior M.”

Hyukjae sighs. His fingers fiddle with the edge of Ryeowook’s blanket. “I know it’s not much different,” he says, still staring at the trash can. “But even though I can’t understand as much—there’s just something about it. It’s _China_.” He looks up at Ryeowook. “Do you understand?”

Ryeowook’s smile lilts. He does, and he knows that the others wouldn’t. “Yeah,” he says. “I do. But you shouldn’t feel so troubled over it.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm. “We’re back in Korea!”

Hyukjae laughs softly, and he says, “Yes. I suppose we are.” His face relaxes. “I hope I didn’t bother you.”

“Not at all,” Ryeowook says honestly.

Then Hyukjae gets up to leave. Ryeowook suddenly finds the need to say something else.

“And I won’t tell the others,” he adds when Hyukjae is in the doorway.

Hyukjae turns around to him. “There won’t be any need for that,” he says. But Ryeowook can read his expression quite clearly.

 _Thanks._

**

Korea is just as tiring as Ryeowook remembers it, although he hadn’t remembered it being quite _this_ tiring. Perhaps Ryeowook is just getting old. Nonetheless, he works hard and laughs at Shindong’s jokes and teases Jungsu with the others, and dotes on Heechul especially when Heechul tries to push him away.

It’s a wonder how they’re all managing to hold up, with their numbers gone.

The Super Shows resume. Ryeowook’s still a little baffled how they’re called _Super Show 3_ even though he feels like this should be _Super Show 100._ But when he’s on stage, all the adrenaline and energy pumps through him and it isn’t until it’s two o’clock in the morning and he’s finished tweeting, when all the exhaustion catches up with him and he’s dead to the world.

Until six in the morning.

He catches a cold in the middle of spring, even though the aftereffects of winter are still lingering across streets and sidewalks. Hell, the city is like one great big mist, rolling into one season after a next, but never changing. Sometimes, when Ryeowook finds the time, he dreams of moving to some place nice, warm and tropical. It keeps him in a good mood for hours.

He knows with any other job, he’d stay at home and rest for at least a day or two. But because he’s with Super Junior, he persists and goes on stage.

Ryeowook has always liked the stage. Liked it, but never needed it. He sees how it fits Hyukjae, how it fits Kyuhyun and Siwon. How it fits Heechul’s loud personality and Shindong’s loud voice, and Jungsu’s desperation for being wanted. How it fits Sungmin and every little thing he does, how it fits Donghae and his everlasting audience. How it fits Henry and Zhou Mi, who can stare the crowd in the face and perform their best, better than everything else.

Ryeowook has told himself countless of times to stop comparing himself to others. _Stop comparing yourself._

(He sees how the stage used to fit Youngwoon and his constant drive to do something outrageous. Fit Hankyung and his encounters with a new world. Fit Kibum when he was acting: different, but perfect.

Ryeowook wishes he could fit the stage, but all he has is the want. Not the need.)

**

At two o’clock in the afternoon, Ryeowook gets up from his bed and goes into the kitchen. Free days are sparse, and he does his best to make the best of them.

He cooks a meal fit for fifteen, and sets the dishes on the table. He’s setting down the twelfth bowl of rice when Heechul wanders in from the front door.

“Good morning,” says Heechul, in contrast to the sun high up in the sky beyond their window.

Ryeowook suppresses a snort. “Good morning, hyung. Are the others going to come to eat, or not?”

“I think Henry’s still sleeping,” says Heechul thoughtfully. “Using his old training room. Same with Zhou Mi.”

“Still sleeping or using the training room?”

“Training room. I heard him go out shopping with manager hyung.”

“Oh.” Ryeowook goes back into the kitchen and grabs the chopsticks. Heechul watches him from behind the counter.

“You really cooked all this this morning?”

“Last night,” Ryeowook corrects. And at the funny look on Heechul’s face, he says, “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You should,” says Heechul seriously, like he cares about him.

Ryeowook rolls his eyes. “It’s not a matter if I should. It’s a matter if I _could_. Besides,” he adds, glancing to the dark bags under Heechul’s eyes, “I could say the same for you.”

“I was playing video games.”

“Playing video games is even a _worse_ excuse than insomnia, hyung.”

“You don’t have insomnia. You’re just stressed.” Heechul comes around the counter and puts his hands on Ryeowook’s shoulders and starts massaging him. “Relax.”

Ryeowook pulls his shoulders out of his grip. “I’m not stressed,” he says stubbornly, putting the final touch on the table. A plate of cut turnips.

“You are,” says Heechul. “You’re a stress cooker. It’d be better if you were a stress eater, though.” He pinches one of Ryeowook’s arms. “Get some meat on those bones.”

“Get meat on your own bones. And the others’.” Ryeowook doesn’t mention himself. “Go tell them breakfast is ready. Lunch. Whatever.”

Heechul looks at him for one last time. Ryeowook thinks he might say something. But Heechul doesn’t, and leaves to go harass Jongwoon awake.

**

Concerts are one thing; television shows are another. Ryeowook has been in business long enough by now to know that in concerts, you’re supposed to show too much skin, too much affection, too much voice. In shows, you’re supposed to show too much personality.

He watches with a fair bit of awe how Kyuhyun and Jungsu can easily talk to the emcee, talking so much and exposing very little about themselves at the same time. Hyukjae is sitting next to him, nodding and laughing: Ryeowook can see that he’s putting effort into his work. Sometimes he wonders if Hyukjae still misses China.

(Zhou Mi has gone home by now. Ryeowook doesn’t know where that is, but he knows that Zhou Mi is happy. Safe.)

When they’re done, they go backstage. One of the coordi noonas’ son is playing with a hairbrush. He accidentally flings it into Jungsu’s face as soon as they arrive. Jungsu doubles over; Hyukjae rushes over to help him.

Ryeowook really can’t help chuckling. Leave it to a young boy to injure their precious leader.

But when the boy sees that Jungsu is in pain, his face contorts—he starts crying. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook glance around frantically, but none of the noonas are here yet. Probably gossiping in another room.

Ryeowook runs over to the boy. “There, there,” he says, patting the boy on the back. “There’s no need for you to cry.”

The boy sniffles into Ryeowook’s shirt. He glances over to Jungsu. “B-But I hurt him!” he blubbers.

Ryeowook nods and then shakes his head. “He’ll be all right,” he assures him. He knows Jungsu will. Jungsu has been in a car accident, has seen a friend whose father had died. Jungsu had made and lost friends, watch his team bend and break, and slowly fade away. Jungsu is still watching his team slowly fade away. “He’ll be all right,” Ryeowook says again.

The boy still looks unconvinced. Kyuhyun is patting the boy’s other shoulder as Ryeowook rubs circles onto his back and tells him it’ll be okay.

It’s sort of ironic, how children will cry when they hurt someone. But when adults hurt someone, they just laugh and put up a mask, without asking for forgiveness.

**

Ryeowook runs a hand through his bedraggled hair, peering out to the bottles from under his fringe. His hair is nowhere near perfect; he wonders why he had agreed to have this hairstyle for their Super Junior M concept. Now it looks like it will never go away.

The others don’t seem to be noticing, though, much less worrying. In fact, Ryeowook is sure that worrying is the last thing on their minds. With hands full of beer and mouths reeking of alcohol, the only thing they would care about their hair right now is if they actually _had_ any.

Ryeowook takes a sip from his own bottle. Perhaps he’s already gotten drunk. (He doesn’t recall if he’s had a drink or not.) It would explain the vaguely random direction his thoughts are going.

Sungmin comes toppling out of the kitchen and onto him, spilling a little bit of alcohol onto his hand. “Oops, sorry!” says Sungmin, giggling.

Ryeowook giggles back. He really can’t help it. “It’s all right,” he says, wrapping an arm around Sungmin’s waist. “Why don’t we find a place to sit?”

“Good idea!” Sungmin giggles again. “I have a bit of a headache, anyways.”

“Me too.” Sungmin’s voice is pounding in Ryeowook’s ears. Or maybe it’s just his imagination.

They find an empty sofa near the television set. Heechul and Siwon are on the other sofa, gossiping loudly. About the other members, Ryeowook would bet. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop.

Sungmin’s head falls onto Ryeowook’s lap, and he gives an odd sort of shudder as he rolls up, looking Ryeowook in the face. “Why do you care so much, Ryeowook?” he says, casting him a benign smile.

Ryeowook shrugs and glances down at Sungmin. “Care about what?”

“You know. Everything.” Sungmin waves his hand ambiguously in the air, as if capturing “everything.”

Ryeowook shrugs again. “Someone needs to,” he answers, thinking briefly of Jungsu’s smiles getting wearier, Kyuhyun’s cheeks getting paler and more hollowed. Siwon’s schedule getting busier, and Zhou Mi’s Chinese fanboard already have been closed down for months now.

Sungmin’s eyes glow. “It doesn’t have to be you, though.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ryeowook agrees. “But it is.”

Sungmin sighs. Then he gets up and giggles, right in Ryeowook’s face. His breath reeks, and Ryeowook giggles back. Again.

“You’re cute, Ryeowook,” says Sungmin.

“Thanks hyung,” says Ryeowook, rolling his eyes.

“Cute things shouldn’t be worried so much,” says Sungmin, rifting a hand through Ryeowook’s hair. “Cute things should be free.”

 _But I’m not free,_ Ryeowook realizes as his hand tightens around his empty beer bottle.


End file.
